


Oats In The Water

by MercuryAlice



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Character Death, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse, good friends kill each other when one gets bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:25:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2280075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryAlice/pseuds/MercuryAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You stupid fucking cunt.” The words wash over him and he can’t help but agree. He doesn’t answer except for a grunt and it earns him a hit to the head which he welcomes because it distracts him from staring at the bleeding chunk now missing from his left forearm. Well that settled that, then. He was royally fucked, and more to the point, dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oats In The Water

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt thingy. #44 'one of them being diagnosed with a terminal illness au'
> 
> I took liberties, but it's technically a terminal illness.

_‘There'll be oats in the water_

_There'll be birds on the ground_

_There'll be things you never asked her_

_Oh how they tear at you now’_

_-’Oats In The Water’ by Ben Howard_

  
  


“You stupid fucking cunt.” The words wash over him and he can’t help but agree. He doesn’t answer except for a grunt and it earns him a hit to the head which he welcomes because it distracts him from staring at the bleeding chunk now missing from his left forearm. Well that settled that, then. He was royally fucked, and more to the point, dead.

 

You get bit, you’re dead. It’s that simple. And right now, that knowledge doesn’t really alarm him at all. It sits quiet, just out of reach; like a small glow just outside his line of sight. The next smack to the head vanishes it entirely. “Yeah, yeah. Fuck. S’if I ain’t got enough of a headache, asshole.” Rollins hisses through his teeth, finally tearing his eyes from the trickling blood that’s managed to slide around his fingernails, as if having some kind of set course.

 

Rumlow just looks annoyed, more than anything else. It drags him back into line, mentally, and he flashes a smile that’s more a grimace.

 

The test kit clatters down next to him, and Jack slides his hand in; fingers splayed for the tiny needles to bite and cycle through his blood for live virus. He doesn’t feel the pin pricks, and idly registers that it’s infection dulling his pain receptors as the hostile takeover begins in earnest. He doesn’t need to look to know the lights have settled on red all round.

 

The torn skin on his arm has stopped throbbing at some point in the last few minutes, the virus having no place for knowledge of pain. His mouth is dry, fluids like that no longer necessary; if he’d been inclined to cry like some pathetic fuck- which he’s not, thanks- it wouldn’t have been an option.

 

Amplification.

 

“Stupid fuck.” Brock hisses, yanking the test kit back and sealing it in a bag. Even he wasn’t going to fuck with the CDC, since that door wasn’t going to open until someone uninfected on the outside decided to open it. “Hope you’re happy, you dumb fucking cunt.”

 

Rollins laughs a little, then stops abruptly. Blinks a few times. Draws a few breaths that are heavier than they have any right to be. “Any time now.”

 

_Before I forget who I am. Before I forget who I am. Before I forget who I--_

 

The thought falls through his fingers, more and more with every try to hold it. He looks up. He knows- does he?- he does, he knows where they are. He just--

 

“What’s my name?” He grinds out between set teeth, and the man moves out of his line of sight. A second later there’s cold metal pressed to the very base of his skull, and he can’t remember why it makes him exhale as if a huge weight has suddenly lifted.

 

“Your name’s Jack Rollins.” The voice replies, as even as a pane of glass.

 

Rollins. Jack.

 

_Rumlow._

**_Brock._ **

 

“And you’re the dumbest fuck to ever walk the god damn Earth.” The voice continues, and there’s a click that he feels in the metal.

 

Rollins. Jack. _Jack_.

 

**Brock.**

 

A flash of something and nothing.

 

 

 

_‘Go your way,_

_I'll take the long way 'round,_

_I'll find my own way down,_

_As I should.’_

  
  
  
  



End file.
